I'm sitting in the waiting hall for the eurostar in London Saint Pancras. I visited 4 cultural institutions today (I'm trying to say I'm a bit overstimulated and tired). Above are the notes from a video seen at Camden Arts Centre called 'Before and After (Still In Progress), 2023 - ongoing', video, colour, sound, 73min 15sec.
The part of the video that I saw was the documentation of a performance in a Berlin art gallery. Imagine a white cube, the artist is on a small stage, with a microphone, he is well dressed, he wears a kippah. He draws comparisons between himself and a comedian amongst more existential questions from the screenshot of my notes above. He repeatedly thanks the audience for giving him a platform, their time and attention. Even if I think this comes from a humble place, his taking up my time and attention grate against this gratitude (his time is finite, my time is finite, and so is yours). His stream of consciousness monologue seems indulgent and I'm not sure what he's truly trying to say. He hints at some larger truths that he dare not mention in current contexts, they seem to haunt him. And his lack of direct approach also haunts me. What is he trying to say? What does everyone in the room know he is hinting at, that I can't even begin to guess given my naive context of seeing this work as a documentation of a performance from x many years ago? Is this the awkward we could all dwell in together, ethically? Emphatically?
Part of his analogy about everyone sensing the same emotion/feeling together includes the metaphor of a dinner. We all eat the same meal but the digestion is singular. Although we could agree that it is tasteful and have tasted the same meal, my own body must digest this (and it is implied that each body may have different responses to this process). I bring this up because I am now eating a beef & hot horseradish sandwich from the M&S just outside the waiting lounge and can find a few awkward comparisons. Eating this sandwich is both a collective and individual experience. M&S make enough so that the taste may be replicated, but package them individually. I taste what many have tasted, or perhaps even will taste. I also must now admit that this reminds me of the exhibition as I didn't perceive the word 'hot' when buying it. And definitely it has an affect. Namely: there, a feeling! Burning in my nose and throat! Hot horse radish (maybe more of you know it as wasabi) evokes a quite localised sensory response for me. Anyway, my point is, how will I ever convene this experience as collective and emphatic unless I exchange with another who has, have or will eat this too? I am isolated in this very banal M&S sandwich experience.
Bordowitz approaches this topic of sharing lived experience and tries to mediate it in very different ways to me. I'm curious, because his articulation of lived experience is grounded in something identifiably marginal and political, namely surviving as an HIV positive gay man. I feel the pressure of also articulating something so clearly defined and marginal that situates my own practice, that is engaged in mediating lived experiences, but I come up empty - or not quite empty - more like again 'there, a feeling!' but this feeling is something soft and mysterious. Something like fog, fluid and indiscernible, ephemeral, shifting and.
-</----/~`----<`>-----*-
Now I'm on the train. My ears are popping. Another shared experience that seems both isolated and collective.